


The Adventures of Lily Bond

by Jen (ConsultingWriters), Lex (ConsultingWriters)



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: (at one stage), ADVENTURES OF LILY BOND!, Bondlock, Children, Established Relationship, Everybody loves Eve, Hamish too, In roughly chronological order, Kidnapped Q, M/M, Moneypenny is an auntie, No mpreg, They grow up together, Tracks all the way up to adulthood, ish, not even kidding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 13,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriters/pseuds/Jen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingWriters/pseuds/Lex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q and James Bond had a child. Her name is Lily.</p><p>On our prompt fill blog, we were asked for an AU with Bond/Q having a child. Lily Bond appeared. Matters degenerated. She now has an entire story arc and life, in tandem with Hamish Holmes. They grow up together, John is the only sensible human being around, MI6 is dangerous, Hamish is precocious, and Lily and Mycroft are very close indeed.</p><p>HOORAY!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Lily Is Born

**Author's Note:**

> These have been placed in roughly chronological order - originally found on consultingwriters.tumblr.com!
> 
> Hope you enjoy, ladies and gents.

They didn’t really make a point of talking about it. As they’d dated, come to know one another, it became increasingly evident that Bond wanted children, eventually. He wasn’t especially reticent about that fact. He presented the idea to Q quite flatly, and the pair had discussed abstract ideas.

Q, initially, had truly not wanted children. Ever. He liked his job, he liked the routine. He liked the time spent with Bond. He was terrified about corrupting and ruining another human being’s life. He didn’t think he was anywhere near old or responsible enough to have a child.

Bond didn’t argue. He merely continued to nudge the idea, occasionally referencing it. Their relationship continued; they moved in, lived together a while, got married.

As time wore on Q found, to his distinct surprise, that he didn’t mind the idea as much as he used to. If he was quite honest, there was something immensely  _magic_  about starting a family with James. It would require adaptation on both their parts; Bond would have to scale back the life-shortening missions, Q would have to work less.

They made the decision without realising they had, and one evening, simply started discussing options without even addressing the rather momentous fact that they’d decided they were ready to start a family.

-

Bond was startlingly adamant that Q’s genes be involved. Really, the options were considerably narrower from that point on: they needed a surrogate, and an egg donor.

With vague sighs, they both started working through the absolutely monstrous quantities of paperwork required, Q muttering darkly about cheating the system.

 -

He did, in the end. Just to speed things up a little.

-

Their surrogate mother was named Elizabeth. Bond ended up being very close to her over the course of her nine-month pregnancy. It had been tricky, finding a surrogate close to them, somebody they were prepared to trust carrying what would be  _their child_. As Q insistently pointed out, a great deal of development happened in vitro.

Liz was brilliant. She took both men in her stride, had a glorious sense of humour, and cooked truly amazing lasagne. It was the latter point that convinced Q that she was in fact, a good human being after all.

-

To the end of his life, Q would never forget seeing his child on the scans.

“ _Oh_ ,” he murmured quietly. Bond’s hands sought his, Liz smiling widely as her gaze darted between the pair of them and the monitors. “It’s… beautiful. That’s our  _child_. Jesus. Fuck, James, we’re having a  _baby_.”

“Yes Q, well done,” Bond murmured, and kissed Q gently while the younger man watched the monitor blankly, mouth slack, eyes faintly glossy.

-

Labour. Bond blotted most of it out his brain. Screaming and blood and crying. Not a very popular environment, if he wanted to avoid flashbacks. He spent most of the event in the waiting room, pacing frenziedly while Q stayed with Liz.

Liz knew what they were, job-wise. She didn’t resent Bond’s absence in the slightest. Her main point of interest was ensuring that the child she had carried for nine months of her life would be safe, and loved.

A single look at either prospective parent confirmed that that would most definitely be the case.

-

“ _James_.”

Bond threw himself into the room with all the force at his disposal. The air had a distinct tang of blood, but nothing he couldn’t deal with, not when he saw Q, cradling what looked to be a simple collection of blankets.

Liz was settled back against the pillows, looking utterly exhausted, smiling distantly at Q as he cradled the incomparably tiny thing in his arms. He looked up at James, eyes huge. “James, it’s a girl,” he whispered.

They had decided to not to find out the gender until the birth; Bond was a traditionalist, Q just liked the surprise. It didn’t matter, either way; as long as the child was healthy,  _nothing_  else mattered.

And she was. Quite entirely.

“May I?” Bond asked, extending his hands; his young partner nodded, a dazed, perfect smile lighting his face as he very gently handed the fragile bundle to Bond.

She was beautiful. Entirely beautiful. Bond couldn’t help the light gasp as he saw Q’s eyes, perfectly set within a stranger’s face. The same shape, angle, replicated. “We’re parents,” Q pointed out from next to him, seemingly in utter shock.

Bond kissed him, their newborn daughter’s form trapped between them. “Yes. Yes, we are,” Bond agreed, and smiled.


	2. In Which Ikea Is Adored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The very first Lily Bond fill!

“James, she’ll shred that in seconds,” Q pointed out irritably, testing the flimsy material. “This must have an actual life of twenty minutes or less, for god’s sake, I could do better on an afternoon in-branch.”

“Yes, but hopefully you’re not going to rig our daughter to explode at random intervals,” Bond pointed out, usually mild. He had mellowed enormously over the first few months of fatherhood, his acerbity dying back incrementally, at least around Lily herself.

Lily gurgled; Bond watched as she waved excitably at another sofa, leather this time.

“You can wipe it off, if…”

“No leather, not cat-proof,” Q said primly, absentmindedly retrieving the ragdoll Lily had thrown bodily out of her pram for no apparent reason. “Why you’re insistent on redressing the  _entire flat_ , I’ll never know…”

“Because it’s an excellent location, but our current furniture arrangements leave no space for a growing baby,” Bond reminded Q, steering clear of sharp tones given Q’s mood. “We have money. Let’s use it intelligently.”

“She’ll be fine in a smaller space…”

“We are not doing this again,” Bond told him firmly, shutting down the argument, wheeling Lily towards a long, mauve sofa.

“Ostentatious, uncomfortable material, and oversized for purpose,” Q intoned darkly behind them. Bond took a deep, calming breath. He could not yell at Q in from of Lily. She would get upset. And then they would  _both_  be in deep shit; calming Lily from a tantrum was nigh on impossible.

“Q, this is getting ridiculous. You won’t accept anything…”

“I  _like_  our flat,” he whined. “Lily’s been fine for four months, no issues at all.”

Bond fixed Q with an absolutely murderous stare. “There is so little space that you had to hide live weaponry under the sofa. This is what Ikea exists for: storage space. Also, the sofa is falling to pieces.”

Q sniggered. “Technically your fault…”

“Not the point. Now. Go stare at different shades of wood, and tell me precisely what the issues are, and then buy the exact same shade you  _always_  like in here. Alright?”

“We know each other far too well,” Q griped, and sloped off to find the infinite haven of storage space, while Lily squealed, James wheeling his daughter off to the kid’s section where she could get very excitable at drawers with pink plastic heart handles.


	3. In Which Q Is Kidnapped

“I swear to every god I’m going to kill someone for waking me up,” Q moaned, trying to cover his head with the duvet, prevented by Bond who was sitting up, frighteningly alert. “James?”

“Get your gun, get out of sight. I’m going to find Lily,” Bond said levelly, his Beretta already in hand. Bond pulled on underwear – god knew he wasn’t going to traipse around his flat nude with potential intruders – and slid into the living room.

Two figures. Bond started shooting without hesitation.

Q, in a demonstration of his inability to follow basic instructions, darted out behind him towards Lily’s room, body close to the floor. Lily, predictably, started wailing.

Q walked into the room, stopped dead. “Place your gun on the floor, and tell Mr Bond to stop firing,” a calm voice told him; Q took a breath, heartbeat hammering in his throat, and nodded.

“James,” Q called to him. “Stop shooting.”

Lily shrieked as Q lowered his own gun, movements slow and steady, sliding it forwards when commanded. “May I?” he asked, indicating his daughter, hands still up. He waited for the answering nod before reaching to her quickly, plucking her out of her cot, cradling her to his chest and hushing her as best he could. The gun remained directed at them both; the holder indicated back to the living room, where Bond was still causing chaos.

“ _James_ ,” Q repeated, far louder. “ _Stop_ , please.”

Bond heard. The shooting stopped. “Gun on the floor,” a voice yelled at Bond. “ _Now_.”

Bond did as directed, Q backing up to the living room, whispering sweet nothings into Lily’s ear to try and calm her. Bond and Q exchanged looks; they could not afford any further fighting, not with Lily there.

“What can we do for you gentlemen?” Bond asked in a low, livid tone.

“We want the Quartermaster,” said the said calm voice as had threatened Q; she wore a balaclava, entirely unrecognisable. “You, Mr Bond, were to be disposed of; however, given the situation,” she continued, with a gesture towards Lily. “I think we can be assured that you will not be difficult, hmm?”

MI6 conventionally arrived within fifteen minutes of an alert going out. By Q’s estimations, that gave them another four minutes. Stalling for four minutes with a well-constructed unit, and their daughter in the balance, was not going to be simple.

“Alright,” Q said simply, sliding a hand over Lily’s ears, keeping her head pillowed against his bare chest. “I’ll go with you. I want an assurance that my family will remain safe, or believe me, any cooperation will die with them.”

“If Mr Bond is obliging, there will be no need for harm to come to either of them.”

“James, could you take Lily, please?” Q asked, keeping eye contact with the woman who threatened the end of his family; Q could sense Bond’s tension, taking comfort in the feel of Bond’s skin as he prised his sobbing daughter out of his husband’s arms. “Shh, Lil, it’s alright,” he soothed. “James, don’t do anything absurd.”

Bond nodded once, sharply; of course he would do something absurd. He wouldn’t, however, risk their daughter.  _Love you_.

Q smiled back gently.  _You too. Both of you_.

-

MI6 arrived exactly thirty seconds too late.

-

Bond felt vaguely paralysed for several minutes after Q had gone; MI6 scurried around, apathetic and time-wasting. Bond took the time to cradle and calm his daughter, before calmly telling a Q-branch representative that he wanted an identification, and location, within twelve hours.

He kept his voice calm and level. He had no interest in upsetting Lily, who was settling a little now, her little head still buried in his shoulder. The Q-branch kid looked utterly, palpably terrified. Bond was frightening at the best of times, and never more so than when he was quiet, simmering with anger, and frightened for his partner.

Lily was settled in her room, Bond inches away from her, guarding her from harm. Having her made all of this harder; Bond had once been able to storm in anywhere, anytime. With Lily there, he couldn’t manage his usual modus operandi.

As ordered, Q-branch contacted him with information. Bond, meanwhile, contacted Eve. “I need you to babysit,” Bond told her emotionlessly. “I’m going to find Q, but they have already threatened Lily.”

“Drop her at my place, I’ll organise everything from there,” Eve replied levelly. “It’ll be alright, James. Go find Q, and I’ll take care of Lil.”

Bond wrapped his arms around Lily, keeping her tight to him, other hand free to reach for his gun. He dived down the stairs, strapped Lily into the car seat – cursing slightly at how much time it wasted – and floored the accelerator.

His driving had improved substantially since having a child. He still reached absurd speeds, but did so with a dash more responsibility. Lily didn’t see it that way – she started wailing as soon as the speed went over thirty miles an hour, Bond hushing her tenderly, streets flying by as he made his way to Eve.

Moneypenny met him at the door, easily tucking Lily into her arms; Lily  _adored_  Eve, always had done, gurgling delightedly when delivered into her embrace. Bond and Eve exchanged heavy, dark looks: yes, Eve would keep Lily safe. She would guard the child with her life, if necessary.

“I should not be too long,” Bond said in an emotionless tone; the underpins were evident. If something were to happen to him, it was established that Eve would take Lily. She was Lily’s godmother, and one of the only people Bond trusted.

Eve nodded, and watched Bond walk away. She locked down her flat to the highest security levels known to man – essentially confirming that nobody would be able to enter or leave for twelve hours, minimum – and waited for Lily’s parents to return.

-

“Where’s Lily?”

Q was barely conscious, yet  _that_  was his first sentence, after Bond had found him. “She’s safe, she’s with Eve,” Bond said soothingly, helping his fragile lover stand. “Q, we need to get you to Medical…”

“Fuck that, I need to see Lily,” Q contradicted flatly, cursing a blue streak as pain erupted through his body, walking proving more challenging than he would have liked. “ _Fuck_ , James. You’re sure she’s alright?”

“Eve would never let any harm come to her,” Bond soothed. “Q, it’s Eve. You know she’s good with Lil, and her flat is in lockdown. Lily’ll be fine.”

“Either way, they directly threatened her,” Q said, with palpable anxiety; Bond let Q lean on him, past the corpses of the people who had threatened his  _family_. “James, this could happen again, you know that, Lily could…”

“Q. We will talk about later. Right now, it is more important that we get you and Lily home, yes?”

Q nodded tiredly, and let Bond lead him out.

-

Q seemed to have no mind at all for his injuries. He just scooped Lily into his arms, holding her as close as he could, almost shaking. She was safe.

God alone knew how any of this had happened, what had  _possessed them_  to think that having a child would be a sensible idea. Yet here they were, with a growing child, a beautiful girl, their little girl. “We need to do something,” Q murmured, kissing the top of Lily’s head tenderly, expression sad and worried. “We can’t let this happen again.”

“We won’t,” Bond said firmly, aware of Eve watching them, just as concerned as they were. “We’ll find something, Q. It’ll be alright.”

Eve just held back, suppressing a smile as Bond wrapped his arms around Q, sandwiching their daughter between, and kissing them both lightly. James Bond, parental. The novelty still hadn’t quite worn off.

She slid out the door, leaving the Bond family behind her.


	4. In Which Eve Babysits

Eve curled her arms around Lily, gently rocking the girl back and forth, the child making little gurgling noises and reached, consistently, for Eve’s face.

Lily Bond was the single most gorgeous child in the history of the world. Q’s eyes were set in a near-foreign face, blinking hugely at her, blonde hair curling around her hair in a neat little halo.

She kept looking plaintively around the room, as though expecting somebody else – and Eve could imagine. Bond and Q were very tactile parents, spending a great proportion of their time with Lily in their arms; on one infamous afternoon, Q had spent the time with Lily strapped to his chest in a papoose, hushing her gently in between guiding 002 through a firefight.

To her credit, Lily had stayed perfectly calm throughout. She was also surgically attached to her parents.

Both needed a night off, however – which left a now  _extremely_  maternal Eve guarding Lily with her life, if necessary. She was Lily’s godmother, and fully intended to be a female role model, throughout the various stages of the girl’s life.

She rocked Lily back and forth, cooing slightly. “Your daddies will be back soon,” she soothed, as Lily squirmed, beginning to look distressed. “It’s their anniversary, the same day of the year they first went out, hmm? Ages ago, now. James was all dressed up in a tuxedo, and Q had combed his hair for the first time in years…”

Eve grinned, as Lily looked up at her with  _enormous_  eyes, looking to be hooked on her every word. “Yes, I know. Your daddy Q, with combed hair,” she teased, running fingers through Lily’s downy head of hair. “And daddy James looking just lovely. He always does. I’ll show you pictures, when he’s old and grey – he was quite the charmer, when we met,” Eve continued, finger gently stroking Lily’s temples.

The child yawned slightly, nuzzling into her arms, eyes closing a moment. “And after that first date, they were inseparable for weeks, M nearly banned Bond – daddy James – from Q-branch. That’s where daddy Q works. It’s all named for him,” Eve said, tone becoming grandiose, whipping Lily away into stories of spies and computers and running and excitement, and Eve was getting rather carried away with everything and Lily was absolutely and completely sound asleep.

Eve smiled a little. Lily was such a beautiful child. Q’s delicacy, but somewhere in the mess of biology, of a few months with James Bond, an integral elegance; she would grow to be lethal, Eve could see it coming. Lethal and beautiful and brilliant, all of Q and Bond’s formidable traits, augmented and improved upon.

Lily Bond, the daughter of the best Quartermaster, and best double-oh, in MI6 history

Really, the world didn’t stand a chance.


	5. In Which Lily Is A Baby Fashionista

“I personally think it suits me.” James told his partner, who was currently doubled over in laughter, bright red. “Lily agrees.”

“I’m sure she does,” Q choked, taking in James’s face, trying to breathe. “Where did she even  _get_  that stuff?”

“I am an active agent Q, sometimes I require disguises,” James replied with as much decorum as he could muster, stroking his daughter’s head as she clutched his knee.

“Which requires a fully stocked make up case?” Q asked incredulously, looking from his painted husband to his grinning daughter. “Well, I am shocked. Clearly we have a makeup artist in the family.”

“I can do your face daddy?” Lily asked, running forward, hands covered in lipstick. Honestly, probably the most frightening sight Q had encountered in a while. “I can, I can!”

“No, no, no darling,” Q smiled, still holding back laughter, and now also his daughter. “I don’t want to upstage your father.”

Bond’s smile was purely lethal. “I think you would look beautiful in purple,” he purred, barely blinking.

“ _No_  dad, Uncle Sherlock wears purple,” Lily complained, tugging on Bond’s shirt and smearing it with lipstick. “Daddy needs  _green_.”

“No, daddy needs a shower and a sit down,” Q assured them both, giving Bond a quick kiss on his bare cheek, and ducking down to Lily to kiss the top of her nose. “We can play in a bit, sweetheart.”

“But…”

Q smiled, stroking errant hair from her face before standing upright, feeling very tired. “Why don’t you help dad get cleaned up then we can have dinner together?”

“Rough day?” James murmured, sounding faintly worried.

Q spared a quick glance, his silence enough; Bond gave him a typical ‘talk later’ look, and Q conceded with a nod. Bond scooped their daughter into his arms, balancing her with ease. “Anything for dinner?” Q asked lightly.

“We made pizza!” Lily beamed. “And butterfly cakes!”

Q looked between them, smiling despite himself. “Good thing it was dad’s day off then wasn’t it? Ours always burn.”

“You need a magic touch,” Bond grinned, exchanging conspiratorial glances with his excitable daughter. “Go shower, I’ll have dinner all out and ready when you come down.”

“Thank you,” Q replied; the day had been bloody awful, but with Lily jabbering away about red food colouring and cream cheese icing, and his James cradling her and teasing about lipstick, it all seemed somehow alright.


	6. In Which Lily Is Kidnapped

“James?  _James_?”

“Yes?”

“Lily’s disappeared.”

-

It was actually quite remarkable, how fast they mobilised. From the moment they discovered Lily’s absence to the moment they found the perpetrators look less than eight hours; Q’s mouth had become a thin, lethal line, and Bond was motionless in a way that spelt danger.

Q tapped through to them. “I believe you have Lily Bond, gentlemen,” he said, with quiet politeness. “I would strongly suggest you return her to our custody.”

“Hello there, Quartermaster,” a voice returned brightly. “Isn’t  _this_  a pleasant surprise. Mmn. I’m guessing our favourite double-oh is there with you?”

Bond didn’t reply. Q glanced at him briefly, and back to his screens. “Mr Moriarty, this is your final warning.”

“Don’t threaten me,” he singsonged, “or I can – and will – make this  _nasty_.”

“Demands?”

A moment of silence, building anticipation; Moriarty was a showman, and it had never been quite so obvious before this moment. “I want everything,” he said, on a low, hissing whisper.

“Clarify?” Q returned, making his voice sound simply bored.

“ _Everything_.”

Q was running out of patience with every second that trickled by. “Give me my daughter, Moriarty, or I swear I will destroy you,” he said, voice a little too emotional, but fraught with utter honesty. “If you have harmed her in any way, you will be _amazed_  at what I can achieve within the parameters of legal loopholes to make you suffer.”

Moriarty whistled, almost  _whooping_  with joy. “Look at what I did,” he crowed. “Quartermaster got cross. Now, I don’t  _like_  to hurt kiddies, but  _that doesn’t mean I won’t_ ,” Moriarty told them, voice rising in volume, in intensity, in  _everything_ , as though he had been angered, some provocation Q hadn’t anticipated.

“You haven’t exactly specified…”

A child’s scream.

Oddly, it didn’t inspire anger. It didn’t inspire panic.

It inspired Q’s fingers moving faster than anybody had ever seen. It inspired a calm instruction to Bond to contact Mycroft, and inform him that a perimeter around Battersea Power Station – it was always bloody Battersea Power Station – was to be cordoned off. It actually inspired the single simplest and stress-free set of instructions and effects anybody had ever seen. It inspired Mycroft blithely agreeing that Bond was allowed free reign to tear anybody to shreds with no repercussions, and Sherlock merrily taking himself and John to a safe house until further notice.

“Go.”


	7. In Which Auntie Evie Saves The Day

“Oh she looks just like you!” R cooed, looking at the small child that was currently clinging to Q’s leg. “What’s her name?  _How_  old is she? Do you need…”

“I am  _fine,_ R,” Q assured her, hand on his daughter’s head. “Her name is Lily, and she’s four.”

“Four and a  _half_ ,” Lily corrected, blushing as R looked back at her; R was a new installation in Q-branch, after the previous R had moved onto greener pastures, and naturally, she had never breathed a word about Lily to anybody.

“Is she..?” R asked, as Q walked them both into the office.

Q glanced around, raising an eyebrow at his subordinate. “Yes, of course,” he said calmly. “I never informed you, or indeed the branch because honestly, the less anybody knows concerning my personal life, the better. Your predecessor knew, of course, but she was sworn to secrecy. I’d appreciate this remaining as quiet as possible; her other parent is obviously absent and childcare fell through, thus having her in branch.”

Lily, meanwhile, had all but surgically attached herself to her father. “Is double-oh seven…”

This time, Q’s eyebrow ascended halfway to his hairline. “I’m hoping I do not need to discuss biology with you, but by upbringing, yes. Bond is her parent. Speaking of which, do we have updates on his mission?”

“He got back about forty minutes ago – just going through med and debrief,” R told him, blushing slightly. “I didn’t mean…”

“ _There_ you are!”

Moneypenny rushed into the branch, looking terribly harassed; Lily’s face lit up delightedly, and she  _finally_  detached from Q’s legs with a happy squeal. “Auntie Evie!”

“Thought you might need a hand,” she told Q conspiratorially; he looked back gratefully, trying to rearrange his suit trousers a little, make himself look a little more professional. “James is on the way. Couldn’t you get anyone in?”

Q shook his head wearily. “No, our usual fell ill, and we couldn’t get anyone at such short notice,” Q explained; Eve scooped up his daughter and balanced her on his hip, the branch practically melting with maternal instincts.

“Family?” Eve asked optimistically.

Q snorted. “Have you met them?” he asked, eyebrow still arched. “One is busier than I am, the other is not fit to look after himself, let alone Lily.”

“Fair enough, want me to take her?”

“Could you?” Q asked, inches from pleading. “I’m seeing 002 through today.”

He sighed, reached over to kiss Lily on the head, finding little hands clasping him emphatically. Lily looked at him sternly, head shaking crossly. “No.”

“Daddy needs to work darling…” Eve coaxed, only to have Lily literally  _launch_  out of Eve’s arm, leaping onto Q’s front and coming precariously close to bowling him over. She laced hands into his beloved cardigan, and entirely refused to be moved.

Q tried very hard to stay calm. “Eve?” he asked desperately, trying to pick Lily’s hands off him.

From behind him, Bond leaned over, and tugged Lily up confidently; she looked horribly aggrieved for a moment, before letting out a soft noise of satisfaction, and conceding defeat in the arms of her other parent. “Dad,” she said happily, and nuzzled against his shoulder happily. “Daddy’s working.”

“Yes, he should be,” Bond said with a little snort, and kissed Q quickly. “Go, now, before she tries another tackle. We’re letting her play rugby one day, after that.”

Q shook his head, already darting for his office. “No, we most certainly are  _not_ ,” he said firmly, and closed the door, letting Bond carry his child away.


	8. In Which Hamish Is Impossible

Hamish was an absolute  _nightmare_  to keep track of.

Q was used to Lily; she was far more controlled than Hamish, and was mercifully devoid of Sherlock’s most questionable traits: she was capable of staying in one place for a protracted period of time, for example.

Supposedly, Q and Bond were supposed to be having a quiet weekend. Eve – Lily’s godmother – had taken Lily down to Cornwall, to give Q and Bond some time together, just for themselves.

Lily was a little terror when in MI6; she loved the active side, emulating Bond as much as she could. Q had found her, at one stage, with a full-size pistol clutched in both hands.

Mercifully, being her father meant that he knew  _all_  the ways to stop her misbehaving. No access to computers, no martial arts lessons, the works; Lily had acceded instantly, and handed the gun back to her father with an almost-repentant expression.

Work had then managed to explode dramatically. Bond was sent on a mission, Q was called into Q-branch, and just to top things off, Sherlock and John were on a difficult case which meant that Q had taken temporary custody of their errant son.

Hamish had promptly disappeared into the rabbit warren of MI6.

“I’m going to  _microchip_  that child,” Q cursed, making Bond rumble a laugh in his ear. “R, tell him he can join me in here, if he wants. To help on this case, perhaps?”

Naturally, Hamish poked his head up from beneath a desk at that precise moment. “Can I?” he asked, eyes immensely sharp, a transplanted copy of Sherlock’s. “I know how your equipment worked, father showed me. Dad doesn’t agree with my work here, but I could be excellent.”

Q smiled sideways, nodding, inviting him closer. “Well done,” Bond said, sounding a little impressed. “If this works, I owe John a drink. He bet you wouldn’t find a way to deal with him without the urge to hang him first.”

“I’m quite good at this child-caring lark, occasionally,” Q returned drily. “I managed with Lily, did I not?”

Hamish settled on a chair, reaching for an earpiece with precocious confidence. “I’m different from Lily,” he said with a slight drawl, and plugged himself in.


	9. In Which Q Mourns

Q knelt down, and reached a hand out, fingers trailing gently over the plaque that commemorated the loss of a being who had barely been, before life had escaped, and left a void that – even a year later, when the hurt had faded – didn’t quite disappear.

A warm hand gently slid into his, soft and little; Q couldn’t help a smile, scooping his young daughter into his arms, holding her close around her middle and tucking her close, so close, in case she vanished like her almost-sibling.

They had tried for another child, their same wonderful surrogate – Elizabeth, who was one of their closest friends now – and it had been going so well. It had been going _incredibly_  well, actually, and Lily was old enough to understand and little enough to be excited, and they were ready to expand their family.

They had come so close.

Liz had been devastated, of course. She blamed herself for not being able to give them a family, and no matter how much they insisted that it was absolute  _rubbish_  and not her fault in the slightest, she still cried and didn’t seem to want to speak to them for a while afterwards, trying to recover, trying to apologise.

Q had taken it the hardest. Bond had been destroyed, but less tangibly; Q took the loss somewhere deep in him, and it exploded out of him in sporadic and angry bursts, and he couldn’t explain it.

Now, he traced fingers over the promise of what was nearly their second child, and closed his eyes, arms still bound around his daughter, keeping her tethered.

Behind him, Bond shifted. He sank to the ground next to Q, crouching, tilting his husband closer and letting him half-fall, keeping his own hand over Lily’s, the girl seeming to understand the gravity of the moment quite entirely. She stayed still, and stroked Q’s face, cuddling into his front and smiling at Bond, and he smiled back and plucked her up, nestling her in his arms despite her being much too big for it to be easy any more.

“Come on,” Bond murmured, managing to reach Q; he stood slowly, breathing out as steadily as he could. “Are you alright?”

Q nodded wordlessly, keeping close to James, keeping them both  _there_. “Daddy,” Lily murmured, a soft little noise, reaching out; Q kissed the top of her head, bopped the tip of her nose, leant over her to kiss Bond properly. “ _Daddy_.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Q said, letting the clouds part a little, and letting the shadows pass while Bond dealt as best he could, accustomed to loss like Q simply had never been, and they dealt together in the ways they knew how.


	10. In Which Bond Is At A School Careers Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOW WITH BONDLOCK.

"So what exactly do you  _do_?” one little boy asked.

Well, little to Bond. He had to be about eight, the same age as Lily. A handful of classes around the school, ages between eight and eleven, had been crowded into the school hall to listen to a handful of parents discuss their jobs.

"I work for a specific branch of the government," he said cryptically. From behind him, he heard a loud snort, and tried to be a touch more specific without breaking the Official Secrets Act or scaring small children. "That deals with foreign affairs.”

"You’re a spy," called another boy, crystal clear accent and a lilting tone of arrogance that was a direct mimicry of his father.

Bond looked over, already knowing the speaker. “Thank you Hamish,” the teacher called, looked apologetically to Bond.

Bond took a breath, exhaled slowly through his teeth. “I am not a ‘spy’, per se. That’s quite an old way of describing it.

"You kill peo…" Hamish began, shutting up with a look from his teacher.

"Daddy doesn’t kill people," Lily was speaking now; James looked between them, rapidly aware that the situation was spiralling out of control by the second. Lily paused, frowning  "Only very  _bad_  people,”

The teacher looked frankly terrified, and Bond was gritting his teeth. Behind him, Sherlock was damn well  _snickering_. “Both of you: I have,  _occasionally_ , been asked to deal with bad people. Very bad people. People who would hurt children like you.”

This shut them up. The rest of the class were watching, fascinated.

"My work ensures that you are all safe, so that you can grow up in a country where you do not have to be afraid," Bond tried, "sometimes I have to go to other places, all over the world."

That got their attention. “Have you been to Russia?” one girl asked, curiously.

Bond smiled at her slightly. “Yes. Many times,” he replied.

"A close friend of mine is Russian."

"That’s nice," Bond tried, looking desperately to the teacher, even to his brother-in-law for help.

Sherlock, however, was enjoying the agent’s distress far too much; he merely raised an eyebrow at Bond’s frantic gaze, and Bond internally swore.

"How could I work for the secret service?" Hamish asked suddenly, wiping the smirk off Sherlock’s face.

"You will not work for the secret service," Sherlock told him sharply.

Hamish looked utterly wrecked. “But  _dad_ , Lily’s…”

Bond looked to his daughter in absolute horror, Sherlock to his son, both of them inches from a large altercation in the middle of a classroom, discussing the pros and cons of the secret service.

"Maybe best if we move on…" The teacher said hurriedly, shooting James an apologetic look.

Bond just nodded in gratitude. “Could I have a moment with my daughter?” he asked, with forced politeness; Lily looked terribly startled, already sensing where that conversation was likely to go.

Sherlock didn’t even ask permission, simply beckoned Hamish, leading the way out of the hall in a swirl of fabric. Hamish’s voice could still be heard, clear as a damned whistle: “I’ll ask uncle Mycroft, he’ll tell me,  _he’ll_  let me be a spy…”


	11. In Which Everybody Loves Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys :D I absolutely love you stories! I was wondering if you could do a prompt for me? James and Q have a child together that nobody knows about except for Eve, M and Tanner and they are all like honorary Aunt and Uncles so one day Q has to bring her into work and All the minions witness the child running to each of them screaming either aunty or uncle and confused minions and agents occur :D – anon

Q was still happily entrenched in meetings, and really, thought that Bond and Lily had long-since gone home.

Only, when he got  _out_  of his meeting, he discovered that Bond had been asked to step in on an emergency MI5 mission – which meant that his daughter was back with ‘Auntie Evie’, presumably.

It became very quickly apparent that that was  _not_  the case. Oh no. The minions were all excitable and agitated and shocked, and M looked far too frightened for Lily to be in somebody’s safe custody, outside the realms of MI6. “Do I want to know?” he asked tiredly.

M stepped out from behind R’s desk, and Q saw his daughter, near enough surgically attached to his leg. “She won’t leave,” he said, sounding utterly desperate.

“Clem!” Lily said contentedly, cheek pressed to him, evidently not having seen Q yet.

Clem – Uncle M. Lily’s diction had yet to fully develop. “She already attacked Tanner,” he said weakly, gesturing at the child with absolute bemusement. “I can’t get her off, she’s refusing. Bill needed to go to a meeting, hence her being handed in my direction…”

“Lil,” Q called, with a light smile. “Lily, come on. Back to me, now. Leave Uncle M alone, yes?”

Delightedly, Lily peeled her face away from M’s leg, and looked over to Q. “Daddy!” she called out, in sheer delight. “My  _daddy_. Daddy, Clem’s gonna give me job one day. I can be like dad.”

Q raised an eyebrow. “I think Uncle M and I will be having words on that strain,” he commented drily, scooping Lily up into his arms, cradling her against his chest while the minions watched, speechless. “Lily, where’s dad gone?”

“Work,” she replied, merrily picking threads in Q’s cardigan. “Auntie Evie and ‘cle Tanner are meeting. Boring.”

“Definitely boring,” Q agreed, kissing his daughter softly on the top of the head. “We’ll go find dad, and go home, yes? I’ll get us some dinner, too. What would you like, darling?”

“’za’”

“We had pizza two days ago,” Q pointed out wearily, getting slightly concerned at his daughter’s dietary habits. Bond was the best when it came to sensible eating – Q knew he was useless – but both had been very busy for a fairly long while, and they really needed to address Lily’s diet, it had to be said.

M watched with amusement, mostly just  _delighted_  at not needing to deal with small child any longer.


	12. In Which Lily Gets A Boyfriend

Mike was tall and ginger and looked absolutely and completely one-hundred-per-cent terrified, beyond all measure and then some.

In his defence, Bond was bloody scary. He had always been scary. He would  _always_  be scary.

Especially where his teenage daughter was concerned.

“If you ever cause any harm…”

Lily had been sequestered in her room while Bond and Mike had The Talk. She was absolutely livid, but Q had bribed her outright with access to his working files for a whole month. Thus, she had apologised profusely to Mike, and disappeared, leaving said terrified ginger behind.

Q just watched with outright amusement, sipping Earl Grey; his interference was completely unnecessary, really. He could ruin this boy’s life just by publishing his internet history, after all. He had naturally already had a somewhat invasive glance – nothing but relatively innocent pornography, newspaper articles, a minor addiction to tetris and World of Warcraft, even a passable review and political commentary blog. All in all, a relatively normal teenager.

Although, he currently was doing a passable imitation of a truly  _terrified_  teenager.

“Yes sir,” he mumbled, when Bond had finished his rant.

Q interjected. “James, that’s quite enough,” he said lightly. “Call him James, by the way, ‘sir’ is a little bit odd. And yes, call me Q. Honestly, James is  _not_  going to rip your head off, unless you give him an excellent reason. He’s actually very nice from time to time. Would you like some tea?”

“Please,” Mike managed, in all but a squeak.

“Lil, you can come out now,” Q yelled.

Lily emerged a moment later, looking absolutely and entirely  _livid_. “I’m so sorry about my fathers, can’t take them  _anywhere_ , dad, you’ve been  _ridiculous_ …”

James just raised an eyebrow, Mike still looking like a deer in headlight.

Q restrained a smile, and went to make tea.


	13. In Which The Kids Have Parent's Evenings

“… I would note that his behaviour is somewhat  _antisocial_. I feel he finds it difficult to relate to other students.”

Sherlock simply blinked slightly. “Is his social aptitude of such immediate priority, or indeed consideration?” he asked drily; John kicked him under the table, hard. “Fine. Go on…”

-

“… seems very sociable, although I do have concerns about her stories, and the breadth of her imagination…”

Q’s eyebrows had long-since disappeared beneath his fringe. “In what regard?” he asked, a little coldly.

“Well. Some of her stories about abductions, danger; it seems a little  _extreme_  for a child of her age. I may recommend monitoring her exposure to potentially upsetting or distressing programmes…”

Bond looked to his partner, as Q’s smile turned nasty, edged. “As though life does not contain such issues?” he asked rhetorically.

“With all due respect, she is only seven.”

-

“… severe issues with concentration…”

“Sherlock, for  _god’s sake_ , just listen, would you?” John snapped at him, as Sherlock meandered back into the realms of a conversation he deemed unnecessary and potentially inaccurate.

-

“… superb mathematics skills, very encouraging, and I can see she is also a keen sportswoman already. Very impressive. There are, however, some gaps in the sciences; she argued, quite fervently, about the existence of gravity.”

Q breathed out, slowly. He had hated these damn meetings since the moment Lily had started school. “In what regard?”

“There is an appreciation that it is a valid theory, but given her behaviour both in and out of the classroom, it would appear that she feels such universal laws somehow do not apply.”

Bond just snorted. “That’s my girl.”

-

Sherlock and Q smiled sycophantically at one another. “Yes, ours was two days ago,” Q said, expression very fixed. “How was yours?”

“Excellent,” Sherlock said smugly, with a short look at Hamish, who was busy taunting Lily – who, to her credit, was fighting back admirably. “As expected. Hamish is a gifted child…”

“… as is Lily, it would appear…”

John rolled his eyes, and looked to Bond. “Tea?” he offered, as an escape from the Holmes brothers’ bickering.

“Please,” Bond agreed quickly, and they escaped into the kitchen as fast as possible.


	14. In Which The Kids Apply To MI6

Lily licked her lips, looking over the online form.

Name:  _Lily Bond_

Age:  _Eighteen_

Occupation:  _Student_.

Why do you want to work for HM Secret Service?

-

Lily paused, fingers poised hesitantly over the keys. It was a nice laptop, a Christmas present from her dad; nice keyboard, light, durable.

And apparently, remarkably susceptible to external hacking from said parent.

QB:  _I truly, honestly hope that is not what I think it is._

The message flew across the base of her screen, and Lily winced. Sighing, she typed her own line on her document.

LB:  _Stop spying on me, it’s impolite_.

QB:  _You are hardly in a position of moral superiority, young lady. I’m on my way home, and your father is too. You know what we think on this subject._

LB:  _I am a grown woman, and this is my decision. Are you really that surprised? Queen and country etc._

QB:  _You are far too young, they would never take you for field work. Especially if your father and I intervene._

Lily snarled in utter frustration, looking back to the form, and adamantly trying to work out her next answer.

HH:  _Having problems, cousin mine?_

Lily looked at the new message with barely a groan of surprise; of bloody course, Hamish – her cousin – had managed to get himself involved.

LB:  _Hack me, or just *know*?_

HH:  _I knew you would be filling in the form, given our previous conversations, I therefore surmised you would be having problems._

QH:  _Hamish, get OUT of this conversation, I’m talking to my daughter_.

HH:  _She’d be good._

QH:  _Out, or so help me, I’ll speak to Sherlock_.

HH:  _Not scared._

QH:  _I’ll speak to John._

LH:  _Daddy, that’s unnecessary_.

JB:  _For god’s sake, you’re all setting off alerts on my phone. What the hell is going on?_

Lily let out a quiet, strangled noise; this just wasn’t fair. It was absolutely, and entirely, not bloody fair.

QB:  _Your daughter is looking at the field agent forms._

LB:  _Filling them in, actually. I am applying._

JB:  _Did I miss something here when you went insane? What the hell makes you think we would let you do this? I’m nearly home - we will talk about this further._

HH:  _This is better than telly._

JB:  _Hamish Holmes, that is quite enough._

LH:  _Go away, all of you!_

Lily stabbed the ‘enter’ key with unnecessary force, before seeing the message beneath, and shaking her head with pure disbelief.

SH:  _Apologies, I have confiscated Hamish’s laptop for a moment, while I discuss with him the questionable concept of his attempts to join MI6. Q, please do contact later, once I have killed my son._

**HH has signed out**

QB:  _Good, Sherlock empathises._

JB:  _You’re in deep trouble, Lily._

Lily smirked suddenly; she still had a trump card. A card she frequently forgot about, but was invaluable in such situations.

LH:  _I’ll call Mycroft_

QB:  _You will do no such thing._

Feeling a little vitriolic, and more than a little bit smug, Lily reached for her phone.

QB:  _I will disable your laptop, you will have no phone, no facebook…_

Lily scanned through her contacts, landing on Mycroft Holmes.

QB:  _You won’t leave the house until you’re a pensioner, I swear…_

She pressed the call button, and listened to the ring; three times, and there was a response.

QB:  _I’ll publish your damn internest history!_

"Uncle Mycroft?" Lily asked lightly, in her most endearing tone of voice.

“Ah, Lily, what a charming surprise…”


	15. In Which Lily Does Work Experience With Mycroft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About twenty, in this one...

"So we just… sit here?" Lily asked, as Anthea clicked at her phone.

"Hm? Oh, yes," she nodded, busy doing something terrifying on a blackberry as Lily looked at the office. It was a nice office, but it was still a desk/computer/teabag combination that added up to make a very dull work environment.

Lily sighed in boredom. “No taking notes in secret meetings, escorting terrorists out the building, or…” she tried, as Anthea moved from her phone to her laptop.

The woman considered for a moment, before sending her another smile. “No, I mainly arrange appointments.”

Lily sat back, drumming her fingers on the desk, bored of her mind and itching to make use of the gun she had stashed in her jacket; Dad had given it to her, on the quiet, making her  _swear_  she wouldn’t tell Daddy.

When, an hour and a half later, she heard all hell break loose, she was on site in a heartbeat with her customised Glock. Both her parents had taught her exceptionally well; Anthea, meanwhile, was lingering in the office looking quietly calm, having set off every alarm in the vicinity and resigned herself to not knowing a damn thing about self defence. Thus, she may as well wait.

Lily’s uncle Mycroft was being accosted by men with guns. Lily concentrated, using her position to scout out the area.

Exits, three, windows… quick count - four in the room and two in the corridor, from what she could see. Lily mapped out the route mentally, establishing that there was no way of getting in without being seen; she had a fair sightline however, could shoot through the glass panelling on the door before darting upwards for a better position.

With minimal time to consider, Lily took a breath and aimed. She hit one assailant in the shoulder, the second in the side; Mycroft took that as his cue, meaning the third was all but skewered by what was distinctly  _not_  just-an-umbrella.

Another two shots from elsewhere; Lily stiffened. A second defensive body, judging by the excellent headshot to another assailant; the angling was impressive, given that Lily had no sightline to the other person. “Lily, Dad here,” Q said in her earpiece; Lily always wore one, it hooked into her phone, or indeed Q’s private line. “What do we have?”

Mycroft was brought to his knees with a gun against the back of his head, looking distinctly weary, the umbrella confiscated in the light of imminently having his brains blown out. “Target subdued with gun, no clear angle,” she returned, glancing quickly, sliding across.

"007?"

"No clear eyeline, presence demanded," Bond returned; Lily smiled slightly at the sound of both her parents, in their natural environment. "No potential for clear shot."

"I have potential,” Lily said immediately; the gunmen had shifted out of Bond’s sights, but conveniently better into Lily’s.

"007…"

“They want a surrender, or they’ll shoot. If Lily has potential, it needs to be me,” Bond said quickly; without clearance – of course – he walked into the room, gun up. One of the gunmen from the corridor filtered in to help, Bond sliding his gun towards with slow movements. “Lily?”

"I can’t guarantee I won’t hit Dad."

Q could be heard typing, while Bond argued in fluent Russian, essentially stalling for time so Lily could get a clean shot. “Don’t shoot. Help is on the way.”

Lily listened, using her decent grasp of Russian to work out what in the hell was going on. “I have to shoot, daddy, or we’ll lose Mycroft,” she returned, faintly desperate, breathing harshly; Bond was still arguing, threats bouncing around the confined space and too dangerous to allow. “Dad, if you can hear me, get down on three.”

Q stopped breathing for a moment. “Lily, don’t you  _dare_.”

"One, two…"

“ _Lily_.”

"Three," Lily said carefully, loudly, and pulled the trigger.

\---

"Lily please, I’m fine," Bond assured his daughter as she desperately attempted to apply pressure to his arm. "You just clipped it…"

"You’re bleeding," Lily pointed out, as her father tried to shake her off.

Q rolled his eyes, and yanked Lily back so the medics could have a go at headling him, rather than his daughter’s somewhat tremulous attempts; she looked immensely shaken, but did as told, while Mycroft managed to look annoyingly calm about the entire situation.

He glanced at Lily, and smiled slightly, before extending his arms out: Lily Bond, the only person in the world whom Mycroft would ever deign to hug.

It was remarkably comforting even if it did shock Anthea enough to make her put down her phone. “You did well,” her uncle assured her, small circles over Lily’s back, soothing and gentle.

Lily let out a slight hiccup, quickly stifled, pulling away. “I nearly killed the pair of you!”

"Welcome to the government,” Mycroft returned drily, while Bond rolled his eyes elaborately.

"Lil, for god’s sake, I’m  _fine_.”

"Better than that bloody Brussels abortion," Q griped, slapping his husband around the back of the head; he shot his partner a black look, before Q returned attention to his daughter. "By the way, Lily Bond, you are in deep trouble. You are supposed to  _follow orders_.”

Lily and Bond exchanged a wide smirk.

"Oh god. There are two of them," Q muttered, eyeing his family dubiously.

There was a moment of quiet, while Mycroft glanced over his niece with casual curiosity. “If Lily would be interested at all, I would be delighted to employ a new bodyguard on a part-time basis,” he mused aloud, “not to mention that would be an excellent shadowing opportunity.”

It was extraordinary; Lily was delighted, Q looked literally homicidal, and Bond was bleeding impressively and extremely pale.

Lily stared at her uncle for a moment. “Seriously?!” she managed, after a moment. “Yes. God yes. I’ll admit, I’m still looking to get involved in some political aspects, but I could use the training. Is that alright?”

"No," Bond and Q said, in absolute unison.

"Wonderful, I’ll send you through the contact," Mycroft told her, beautifully filtering out Q’s homicidal looks. "Have you considered looking into some of our European projects…?"

Lily grinned. “Tell me everything,” she said happily. “Sorry,” she mouthed at her parents, and followed after her uncle.


	16. In Which The Kids Have A Fight

Body coiled to spring, eyes on her prize, Lily licked her lips. Her little heart pounded in her chest as she prowled as silently as possible towards the other figure.

"Found you!" She screamed, Hamish jumping almost a foot into the air.

"Not fair!" Hamish protested as Lily ran, giggling to behind her father’s legs.

"Told you," Q commented smugly; Sherlock shot him a look of pure, acerbic hatred. "She’s very light on her feet, unlike your bruiser."

"Mine has intellect."

"Mine has…"

"Holmesian bloody parents, is what they have," John muttered to Bond, who snorted; both brothers shot the pair a truly impressive set of glares, and then refocused the hate back at each other.

"Don’t you listen to them," Bond told the two children; John backed him up with a nod, as Hamish ran to him, looking at his cousin.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Your daughter may not see listening to you as a matter of importance, Bond, something that I can entirely relate to. However, my son will listen to…”

"You constant stream of errant thoughts?" John finished, picking Hamish up and holding him on his hip.

Lily, meanwhile, giggled as she was plucked from the floor and onto Bond’s lap, sticking her tongue out at Hamish; Bond bopped her on the nose, making her turn with an absolutely devastated expression. “Don’t look at me like that. You learnt that from your daddy,” Bond told her firmly.

Lily rolled her eyes, attention focusing back onto Hamish and the rather large plate of biscuits Mrs Hudson had just magicked into being. Both children made dives for the bourbons as the landlady cooed. “Such charming little things,” she commented, with a happy sigh.

Hamish elbowed Lily, quite deliberately; she fell backwards, and let out a soft sob, looking towards her parents with wide, damp eyes.

Bond and Q were in instant motion, and Mrs Hudson looked frankly terrified.

Q rounded on his brother. “Your child just  _pushed over_  my daughter,” Q snapped, as Bond tended to Lily, and Hamish looked equal parts mortified and satisfied, mouth full of biscuit.

Sherlock’s expression was utterly smug. “She wasn’t fast enough,” he replied as John yanked the rest of the biscuit from Hamish’s sticky hands.

"No," he said firmly to the now devastated-looking boy. "We don’t snatch, we  _share_ , and we certainly don’t push.”

"Thank you John," Q said gratefully, as he bundled his daughter into his lap, stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her.

Sherlock just smirked slightly. “She’ll learn.”

Q took a breath, let it out slowly. “Bond, if you would?” he asked politely.

Bond looked at his partner, rolled his eyes, and nodded.

John wearily covered Hamish’s eyes and ears, Q tucked his daughter into his shoulder and held her there, and Bond grabbed Sherlock by the collar and lifted him against the wall. He was very nice about it, actually. It was mostly just lifting the man in a manner that seemed relatively intimidating.

"Really? Getting your boyfriend to shake me up?" Sherlock mocked as his collar caught uncomfortably against his windpipe.

Q raised an eyebrow. “Husband, actually.”

"Just apologise for god’s sake," John muttered, as Hamish squirmed. "I’m not calling him again."

Sherlock fell still, livid. “You wouldn’t  _dare_.”

"I will. I will call him."

Bond raised an eyebrow, grinned a Cheshire Cat smile. “Your choice, Sherlock,” he said gamely, Sherlock held up by one hand in a way that was rather comical. “I’m happy to speak to Mycroft too, you know.”

"Fine!" Sherlock said, nose crinkling in defeat. "I am sorry Q."

"Why?" Q pressed, not allowing his brother to get away with it that easily. For a moment it would appear that Sherlock would remain silent, until finally.

"For encouraging negative behaviour in my spawn."

“ _Sherlock_ ,” John snapped.

Sherlock let out a long, aggravated sigh. “Fine. My  _son_. Happy?”

Bond lowered him to the ground, and smiled. “Thank you,” he said politely, went back to his partner, and pulled his daughter into his arms along with a biscuit.


	17. In Which There Are Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily! I love that little girl. Prompt: One day Q and James argue, (but I mean a real argue) they argue so loud they awake Lily. When she goes to the living room she sees James grabbing Q so hard. Now Lily is scared of James. Q decides to go to Sherlock’s for a couple of days. (Hurt, but also comfort) – anon

Q was yanked forward, Bond’s grip iron on his wrist, letting out a sharp hiss of pain. “James, that hurts,” he snapped, voice cold and sharp, reaching over the tirade of shouting Bond had yet to calm down on; they had been screeching like banshees, somewhat unapologetically, for a fairly long while. “ _James_.””

A small, soft whimper from the doorway.

Bond was still shouting; he was a long way past the point of noticing, while Q turned quickly and softened instantly, abruptly gasping at the pain in his wrist. “James. _James_.”

Finally, Bond noticed.

He let go of Q, voice shattering instantly and stopping, everything quiet barring the heaviness of both their breathing. “Lil, darling, it’s alright,” Bond told her softly, Q ignoring Bond altogether to move over to their daughter. “Daddy and I were having an argument, that’s all. It’s alright, I promise. We’re both fine.”

“Daddy,” Lily managed, in a high voice, tremulous. “ _Daddy_.”

Q hushed her gently, scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Bond took a step forward.

To his absolute horror, Lily keened, burying her head in Q’s shoulder.

Both parents froze for a moment. “Lil?” Q coaxed, a finger stroking her cheek. “Sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s over, now.”

Lily unburied her head from Q’s shoulder, and just watched Bond with baleful, terrified eyes. She barely blinked; just stared, sniffling, fingers tight in Q’s shirt. “ _Daddy_ ,” she hiccupped again.

Q relaxed slightly. It took a fair amount to render his daughter this quiet; she was usually immensely talkative and bright, and it was not precisely rocket science to discern what had changed. “James, we’re going to my brother’s for a few days,” he said simply, calmly. “Lily? We’re going to Uncle John’s for a sleepover, okay? Just you and me. Dad is going to stay here for a bit.”

Lily nodded, jaw trembling slightly. “Uncle Mycoff?”

It was impossible to not smile; Lily had yet to get the hang of Mycroft’s name, which – somewhat ironically – Q himself hadn’t been able to fully pronounce until he was about ten. ‘Sherlock’ was known, by both Q and occasionally Lily, as ‘Shock’.

Q nodded, and tucked his daughter’s head back into his shoulder to shoot a look of utter fury in his husband’s direction. “You stay here,” he repeated, emphatically.

“I’m sorry,” Bond told him, a little helplessly. “Q…”

“I’ll call you,” Q told him simply, and moved to the door, Lily in his arms. “Don’t do anything moronic, please.”

The door shut, and Bond was alone, barely able to breathe any longer.

\---

Mycroft was substantially less than impressed with Bond’s behaviour. In fact, Q had wanted to go to Sherlock’s, initially, given that while Sherlock got ostensibly angrier, Mycroft had access to more resources.

On the plus side, he was absolute putty around Lily, so it was fairly easy to temper his rage. “It’ll be fine, it just needs to blow over,” Q explained tiredly, as Lily just fell asleep in Mycroft’s lap with worrying contentment. “I just wish Lil hadn’t seen, is all. Don’t send out hit men, please, it’s not quite that serious.”

Mycroft paused in stroking a hand through his niece’s hair, and raised an eyebrow. “If he hurts you in any way again – and if he so much as  _thinks_  about harming Lily – I can assure you, he will vanish.”

“If he does, I’ll help,” Q told him, tone placatory, smiling very slightly. “Myc, calm down. It’s James. You know he’d do almost anything to avoid hurting me. Honestly, I expect the guilt would have been ample, even if Lil  _hadn’t_  seen.”

Mycroft just shook his head slightly, as Lily shuffled slightly on his lap, and the man’s own eyes started to close.

Q couldn’t quite believe just how much his child had completely decimated, of all people, Mycroft Holmes.

-

Nobody had expected Bond to be sent out on emergency mission within the next twenty-four hours. Lily was being babysat by Sherlock and John, Q had given R the handover of equipment, and then Bond had been shot.

It was a leg wound. Painful as hell, but not fatal. Bond had been extracted with relative ease, flown back to the UK, at which stage a near-enough  _hysterical_  Q waited in Medical for two days for the man to wake up.

“You’re an idiot,” he said, swallowing back tears with a terrifying amount of effort. “James fucking Bond, you’re an  _idiot_.”

“I’m sorry,” Bond rasped at him.

Q leaned in, kissed him quickly. “Getting shot. Getting  _fucking_  shot.”

“Is Lily alright?”

If one could select a singular aspect of Mycroft Holmes as particularly impressive, of all his various skills and terrifying facets, it would very simply have to be his sense of timing.

“ _Dad!_ ”

Q stepped aside, to allow his daughter to pelt herself at her father; Bond had enough time to look rather alarmed, before yelping in pain, and refusing to let Lily go. “How’re you, my darling girl?” he grinned, pushing her hair out of her eyes as she looked over him with childish worry, gaze huge.”

“M’okay,” she returned, a little shyly. “Are you ‘kay?”

Bond grinned, gestured at his leg. “Might be a bit tricky to race you for a while.”

Lily looked truly, honestly devastated.

Q just laughed, and plucked her off Bond before she accidently pulled his stitches or something equally dastardly, and settled her in his lap.

Mycroft watched from the doorway, rolled his eyes with vague fondness at his brother’s absurd family, and vanished.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love your Bondlock :) Au Taken. Lily Bond is abducted by Silva. Q hears the whole thing. Minutes later Hamish Holmes is also abducted by Moriarty. John hears. James and Sherlock need to unite forces to save their kids. (Maybe the kids are 4 or 5 years old) Thanks! you are going to heaven – anon

Q was moments too late.

His fingers brushed the edges of her bed, shock rendering everything numb, breathing harshly, reaching for his phone with hands that were shaking with shock and with utter, raw rage. “James, it’s Silva,” he said, without preamble. “He’s taken Lily.”  
-

“John, Moriarty is apparently still an active threat,” Sherlock noted sharply. “Contact Q, and Mycroft. We need to move quickly.”

John apologised to his patient, not overly repentant, holding it close. “What’s happened?”

“Hamish is missing.”

-

Q was sleep-deprived, running on fumes and insistence and – honestly – fear. Sherlock remained at his shoulder, glancing over the screens as Q brought them up, the power of two Holmes boys exploring every square centimetre. Anything Sherlock believed was of note, Q immediately forwarded to Mycroft, who would continue the rest of analysis and was stage-managing the logistics.

Bond was asleep. He was of no use, yet; he would become important when he could be deployed, and Bond was a past master at sleeping under stress. His body required rest, and his daughter needed him at his best.

John arrived with tea for Q, and stood back to allow them to work. “There,” Sherlock said sharply. “More data, Q.”

Somehow, Q understood what that would mean in practise; from a fractional image of Moriarty’s note, the deeper fibrous data, Sherlock had found an anomaly. Q extrapolated out, sending fragments to screens, all eyes tracking with impressive intensity. “Where is it?”

Q waved at a table; Sherlock knocked aside all Q-branch personnel to do what he was best at, and Q didn’t watch, busy tracing and breaking through firewalls that had been tailored, were mocking  _clever boy_  and he refused to allow this to throw him.

“There.”

“ _There_.”

Silva’s smile, Moriarty’s voice. “Say hello, kiddies.”

Bond’s eyes opened, John’s knuckles white.

Q’s phone rang. “Yes?”

“We have independent contact from Silva and Moriarty,” Mycroft told him, voice still impossibly calm. “Apparently, they are not deigning to speak to you specifically.”

“Explain,” Sherlock snapped, and they listened, all ears and eyes, and oh, but they were going to  _destroy_  the people who had taken their children.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love Bondlock! and now I ship even harder because of you! Hamish (18 years old) has been kidnapped by Moran. Neither Q, Sherlock or Mycroft can find him. James starts pushing Lily to make her talk. (She knows Hamish and Moriaty’s daughter have been dating) Finally Lily talks. The next day John and James found him and take him back home. When Hamish knows that Lily told the truth he feels betrayed by her cousin. Have fun :) – anon

Lily stared at her parents, her expression set and mutinous. “He wants to handle it on his own,” she said firmly, Q watching her with an expression that more than amply covered that he was going to  _kill_  her for this stupidity. “Look, he got himself in trouble, and he’s sorting it out, apparently. He’ll be back.”

Sherlock was inches away from killing her. She was his niece, yes, but that really was unlikely to help when she seemed to be determined to not assist in locating his son, and her own goddamn boyfriend.

Yes, it had occurred that the pair of them dating was probably problematic, in the long run. However, they were Holmes boys, and it seemed that stubbornness ran through both of their veins in a truly impressive concentration.

“Lily,” Bond said slowly, calmly, sat opposite her. Lily set her jaw. She knew far too much about interrogation procedures to take Bond as an ally, or a friend, and she honestly didn’t know how far he’d go because really, she probably had brought a good proportion of this on herself. “You are going to tell me what Hamish has been doing.”

Bond continued to talk, his voice steady and low, for another four minutes and twelve seconds. He didn’t move once.

“Moran,” Lily told him tremulously. “Sebastian Moran.”

Immediately, there was motion. Q opened his computer and started typing frenetically, Sherlock was on the phone to Mycroft.

They managed to get a very ruffled and somewhat battered Hamish back to them in just under fourteen hours. It was something of a record on all fronts.

Lily sat by Hamish’s bedside, hand extended pointlessly towards him. He had never been a precisely tactile type – in fact, he tended to give even Sherlock a run for his money – but Lily needed him to know she was there, needed to know  _he_  was there.

“You told them.”

Hamish watched her with eyes that were a perfect replica of Sherlock’s. His lips were a sharp gash, crooked with anger in the corners, and he stared at her with utter betrayal. “I had to,” Lily told him quietly. “Good thing I did, he beat the shit out of you.”

Hamish’s eyebrow quirked. “Fuck off, I had it under control.”

“No, you did  _not_.”

Two Holmes cousins should never have been allowed in the same room to bicker for an extended period; John walked in to find Lily near enough throttling her cousin, and bleeding profusely.

“ _James_ ,” he yelled, and the pair prepared to – once again – wrench the two teenagers apart before they killed each other.


	20. In Which Bond Is Tortured

Lily spent more time in Q-branch than any of the others in B-Branch (literally ‘baby branch’, where all the trainee agents remained before being posted off) given that her father worked there. Agent-in-training she may have been, but that did  _not_  mean she didn’t like getting a lift home at the end of a long day.

Not to mention she may or may not have been flirting very heavily, very unapologetically, with one of the minions; Alyss was a frighteningly intelligent young woman, older than Lily by a good few years and rather unlikely to wind up actually _dating_  an upstart twenty-year-old, but that didn’t seem to be stopping Lily in the slightest.

When she walked in, Alyss actually stopped her halfway. “Out,” she said strictly. “We’re closing the branch, I…”

Lily heard it, before Alyss could adequately shuffle her out.

“Ah,” she said softly, almost conversationally, and her eyes sought – and found – her father. “Daddy? Dad’s…”

“Lil, why the  _fuck_  are you in here?” Q snapped, busy, fingers flying and eyes exceptionally bright behind his glasses; he tapped on the com set, letting out a slight breath. “Bond, we’re narrowing down, we know where you are can’t get an extraction team just yet, not cleared for entry.”

Bond didn’t reply; there was a crunch, snatched phrases in Spanish, and a sharp yell of pain.

Lily flinched. She had seen the aftermath of missions, of hurts, of a world she was intending to blithely walk into while her parents barely kept their heads above water; Lily had seen Bond shot, had seen Q sobbing in the corner of his and Bond’s bedroom as nightmares hit, the pair reunited after a harrowing mission with no physical marks but scars across a mind that never quite went away.

Which was all very well and good, but fuck, her father was screaming.

Lily kept back vomit, it was pointless. “What can I do?”

Q looked at her with frank disbelief. “Get out of my workplace when…”

Bond cried out again, and it was a slightly more shattered sound now; Q looked at the monitors, couldn’t spare a hand to tap his headset, needed somebody on the line to him to keep the agent’s sanity even faintly intact. “Take the transcripts, translate in full, and  _listen_. I need background noises, voices, numbers of assailants,  _everything_.”

Lily was there in a heartbeat, headset in, letting Q-branch hook her into the correct tapes; she was under no delusions that others were doing the same, and that Q was probably putting her on this precise role to prove a point about how difficult it was to listen to a loved one being tortured.

This was her life too, however.

“Five.”

“We were only registering four.”

Lily raised an eyebrow, collared R to explain what she’d found, was proven correct. “Keep going, inform me of further updates,” Q told her sharply. “Nearly with you, 007, stay with me.”

It had confused Lily, when she was younger: Q never called Bond ‘James’ when they were at work. For those moments, Bond was another agent, just an agent, and would _always_  be just an agent; Q couldn’t afford bias, neither of them could.

“Extraction team deployed.”

Q let out a breath, glanced to Lily – Bond was half-laughing, half-choking on the com system, and Q was rather white. “He always laughs,” he told Lily conversationally. “No idea why.”

There was nothing to say. Silence fell, as the extraction team stormed the base.


	21. In Which they Are Adults

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily Bond au for the win!! love your Hamish also, so I was thinking… how about a future one were Hamish is the new Q and Lily a double-oh on MI6 and both are such flirts with each other (hamish got it from john, lily, well we know from whom XD) that everybody swears they are together, until Eve (who is the new M), clarifies what is the real realationship between those two. lots of Love! xox Tam! – slytherindoctorsat221B

“Anything, Q? Or am I due to be waiting until somebody just gets bored and shoots?”

“If you last that long without expiring of your own volition,” the response came back, prim but utterly calm, laden with a hefty dose of sarcasm. “I’m sure you could manage it, double-oh one. Left, by the way, if you’re interested.”

Two gunshots. “You missed the one due north.”

The sarcasm didn’t abate: “Thank heavens you didn’t.”

Everybody rather assumed that the pair were together, in some capacity or other. The last Q had been with a double-oh, it made sense really, and they evidently knew each other far better than most agents did the mysterious Quartermaster.

Eve just watched with utter amusement. She was one of the few still working in MI6 from the golden days of James Bond and Q Holmes; most had retired, or were long since dead. She, meanwhile, was headed into her sixties with great aplomb and no intention of finishing any time soon, while Lily Bond and Hamish Watson-Holmes (both of whom she had babysat at one stage or another) became the new frontier in MI6.

Hamish was a very different quartermaster to Q. Honestly, Eve would probably never get round to calling him ‘Q’. He was the Holmes baby, and she was a form of impromptu godmother/aunt given the way the Holmes and Bond families tangled themselves.

“Are they…”

Eve couldn’t help but snort senseless laughing. “God no,” she managed. “They’re related. I know their family, they’re cousins. Biologically and everything, impressively enough, there was a bit of a bias on whose genes got passed on…”

That was enough to cause some stellar confusion for a moment. “Look, just… no, they’re definitely not dating,” she corrected, and turned, snorting to herself.

Apart from anything else, if the pair even vaguely tried, they’d probably wind up killing each other. Eve could recall a thousand instances in their childhoods when it had been very plain that they came from respective parents: Hamish was completely, pathologically socially mercenary. Lily could manipulate anybody in a hundred-mile radius.

The concept of the pair of them  _together_  was actively frightening.

“Double-oh one, are you near rendezvous?”

“Nope,” Lily returned brightly, her father incarnate as she glided around the corner, and perfectly navigated a host of snipers before winding up with her extraction team.

Eve snorted as she heard Lily triumphantly call: “Tada!”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just had this weird dream, and I NEED you to do it!!!! AU Zombie Apocalypse-Bondlock-London needs to be evacuated, immediately, ASAP. There is no technology, no way to communicate. Mycroft and Sherlock are out of London already(also their partners). Q, James and Baby Lily have to make their way out. THANK YOU FOR THE FEELS! – anon

“Any word?” Bond asked, looking over to his husband from their makeshift barricade.

“They are out – I have coordinates for a rendezvous,” Q called back, Lily balanced on one hip as he looked over the trashed remains of MI6 computers. “We need to get out of London.”

Bond nodded, firing out through the only gap. “You have a route?”

“Three possible – James, it’ll be tight,” Q told him, noticing that Lily was unusually quiet in his arms. “I don’t know how my brothers got out so quickly, I just… I still can’t confirm whether the virus is airborne or not…”

Bond inhaled, moving over to Q as he opened up the emergency escape hatch. “’Tight’ is my speciality,” he told Q, kissing him firmly and stroking the side of his daughter’s face; Lily’s eyes were huge and she was still utterly silent, tangibly terrified. “Okay. We need to go.”

Q held tighter onto Lily, and let out a breath. “Left. Run”

Bond ran. The idea was that he’d clear the way; except, the streets were riddled with the not-dead, and Lily sobbed with absolute terror as she looked around before burying her face in her father’s shoulder. “Lil, shh,” Q coaxed, cradling her as he sprinted as carefully as he could after Bond, who couldn’t stop looking back at them to check they were safe.

One lunged. Q panicked. Lily screamed.

Bond was in action in the same heartbeat as Q; through panic, Q reflexively found his own knife and slammed for the zombie’s head, missing the teeth by a whisper and covering his hands in human brain matter. Bond, meanwhile, was battling several at once.

“ _Go_ ,” he bellowed at his partner.

Perhaps it would have nobler to stay. Perhaps it was the romantic ideal.

Q had no romance or nobility; he sprinted, leaving his partner behind with a wrench and the knowledge that he had no other option. Lily had to matter more, and he would protect his daughter until his final breath and beyond, if he had to.

There was no sign of Bond.

Q had located an MI6 safe house. Locked down to an absurd degree, it should have survived the apocalypse which really, it seemed to be doing. If not, Q would have short sharp words with whoever sold it as apocalypse-proof.

If he lived long enough.

Lily was crying softly; Q rocked her, lulling her as best he could. “It’s alright Lil, we’re safe,” he murmured.

“Where’s Dad?” she wept, glancing behind at the door; Q placed her down, back aching from the strain of carrying her for so long. “I want Dad.”

Q glanced towards the door, trying to pretend his hands weren’t shaking. “Me too, darling,” he murmured. “Me too.”


	23. Teenage Lily

“Absolutely, and unequivocally, no. Your father will kill both of us if I let you wear that out in public,” Q told his daughter firmly.

Lily looked gorgeous, of course. Q had expected nothing less.

The problem was that on Eve Moneypenny, Q could forgive a dress cut to flatter and compliment and make the woman’s figure look even more extraordinary than it always was. However, when it came to his daughter, the mere concept made Q feel fairly nauseous and a little bit dizzy.

It was also not really an overstatement to say that Bond would go absolutely psychotic if he caught Lily out wearing a dress that showed any substantial parts of her anatomy whatsoever.

The problem was that  _Bond_  was the better dresser, by such a long margin it wasn’t even funny. Q wore practically and sensibly and stylishly for his age and preferences, but it wasn’t the kind of thing one would especially want to wear to an MI6 dinner. It had taken him over eight months of Bond’s mourning and bitching before he’d conceded defeat and bought a decently-tailored suit, with Bond monitoring to make sure it was something decent.

Q, certainly, should not have been tasked with ensuring his daughter was well dressed. It simply wasn’t fair. Bond would have managed to get it dealt with in  _seconds_.

Also: Lily had grown up. Q wasn’t sure he approved.

Lily, of course, rolled her eyes dramatically. “Dad, I’m not going to turn into a high-class prostitute just because of a dress.”

“Delightful to know, but not quite my point,” Q parried, trying to suppress the strange whimpering noise that threatened in the back of his throat at the thought of his daughter doing anything sexual whatsoever. Paid or not. “What about the other black one?”

“The one that made me look like a nun?”

 _Yes_ , Q thought to himself, now beginning to get a little bit desperate. “Nuns are a good thing?”

Not something he had meant to say aloud. “Dad, do you want me to just take pictures and send them to Daddy?” Lily asked kindly, toeing off the ridiculous shoes. “Frankly, I’d be happier in a suit, these things are  _bloody_  impractical…”

Q perked up. “Now that, I can help with,” he said simply, and meant it: Bond had spent  _weeks_  training him in suit etiquette. “Why don’t we just find you a well-cut suit? You much prefer trousers…”

“I want to look  _good_.”

Lily suddenly seemed her age again, and that fact was enough to make Q calm down exponentially. “You will,” he promised his daughter gently, waiting until she returned with tentative smile before continuing. “Good. Let’s go suit shopping. If you change your mind, we’ll come back here for that last one – but  _you_  will be explaining it to Daddy, and I’ll be at work when you do.”

“You’d have to lock down the branch,” Lily smirked. “Thank you.”

Q didn’t reply, just took his daughter’s hand, and went to find a better outfit.


	24. In Which Lily Deduces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Can I have some bondlock please? You guy made me ship it so hard. Lily is about 5 years old when Sherlock teaches her how to make deductions, but at the end turns out she ends deducting Sherlock. Kind of fun but also comfort. Thank you for all the writing – anon

“And she is…?”

“Doing something naughty and keeping it hidden.”

The woman in question was cheating on her husband. Lily’s parents had not yet started talking about sex too much, and in any case, Sherlock was never likely to be the one doing the talking. Lily was right, in a sense, but the nuance could wait until she was older.

“And daddy is sad,” she mused, her eyes slightly glazed in the way Sherlock knew from experience meant memory, musing. “But not as sad as you.”

Sherlock froze very slightly.

“I’m right,” she said, with a quiet concern, echoing the sadness that thrummed in Sherlock’s veins. “Uncle Sherlock?”

It came and went, the sadness. Like all things, mutable and intangible, a quiet cloud that had always and would always be there. It shifted, changed colour and shape, but persisted all the same.

Lily could see it, and Sherlock could work out how if he tried hard enough, if he turned his own deductions inwards.

He didn’t like doing it. He always hated what he found.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to.”

Sherlock decided not to speak, there was nothing to say.

John knew, of course. He could see it better than anybody; the more they had stayed together, the more John could see the swings of everything, the pain and the elation, something beyond diagnosis or grasp. Sherlock had no interest telling truths to people who could change nothing.

His mind was his own. It was all he had left.

Lily could see.

It was strange. She looked somehow like Mycroft, not Sherlock or Q. The same casual smile and crisp consonants, posture, mannerisms, even; the little touch of ginger that neither Sherlock nor Q had.

Lily also had his mind, his absolutely singular mind. Faster than Sherlock, faster than Q. The reflexes learnt from Bond and mimicked thoroughly, already a part of her.

“You are painfully clever for your age,” Sherlock acknowledged, with a quiet dip of his head. “Well done, Lily. You will be an excellent private detective.”

“Ahem: no, she won’t.”

Lily let out a bright noise of absolute delight, and divebombed her father; Q scooped her into his arms, and grinned at her. “I want to do what daddy does.”

“Again, absolutely not,” Q told her, bopping her on the nose. “We’ll talk about this all when you’re older.”

Lily pouted, but nodded reluctantly. “’kay.”

“Detective,” Sherlock mouthed to her, and she grinned, giggled, and nodded sagely.

Q could only look on with vague horror.


	25. In Which Lily Steps

“There you go, there, nearly there sweetheart…”

If it wasn’t such a momentous occasion in Lily’s development, Bond could have been forgiven for killing his husband by now. Q was  _impossible_. Everybody in MI6 had assumed Bond would abruptly melt when parenthood hit, would be the soppy one with a video camera and inability to stop cooing, but no: Bond was solid, consistent, and never intended to coo in his life.

Instead, he hovered, waiting to make sure Lily didn’t fall. He always would.

“And…”

Lily fell into her father’s delighted arms; Q scooped her up – hauling around Lily had increased his strength exponentially, especially as he hated how easy Bond found it – and bounced her, swung her around.

Bond grinned, leaned in to stem the wild motion and kiss his daughter on the top of her head. “Well done,” he told her, firm and simple and honest.

Lily laughed, gurgled a bit, and Q was absolutely beside himself. “She’s going to be phenomenal, advanced for her age, you can see it, a prodigy…”

“Q, calm down.”

“ _My daughter is a prodigy_.” Q repeated emphatically, a moment before his phone rang. “Oh  _bugger_.”

“Language.”

“Hello? Yes?” Q asked, with a dash of irritation. “Oh, hi, sorry Eve, but Lily just took her first steps and I’m ridiculously excited, she’s extraordinary, my daughter,  _our_  daughter, you have to come over here as soon as possible…”

“Eve?”

Q nearly dropped the phone. “Lil, what was that?”

“Eve!”

Bond blinked

Q nearly expired on the spot from sheer overexcitement.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey have you seen Kingsman? Well if you have I’d like for a crossover with Skyfall, and Kingsman, and Lily, who’s a bit grown up trying to join the Kingsman agency and her fathers and uncles trying to interfere. Just a bit of silliness in the Bond and some Holmes arc. – heap-tight-ass

Q’s phone rang. “Daddy, I’m going to kill you.”

“Ambitious of you, sweetheart, but I really wouldn’t, you know you’ll get into trouble,” Q replied calmly. “What’s happened?”

“Everybody is getting involved,” Lily hissed. “All of you are stopping me doing what I want to do. I’m a grown woman, daddy, and you  _have_  to stop interfering. You, dad, uncle Mycroft, uncle Sherlock, all of you. Just fuck off out of my life. I  _want_  to join. I really do, I’d be so good…”

“You’re not joining the Kingsmen, and that is final.”

“I will make your life a living hell.”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” Q snapped, righteously irritated. “I am still your father. Hence why I’m not letting you anywhere near an organisation like the Kingmen. You are too precious to…”

“ _I am an adult and can make my own decisions_.”

“Then join MI6?”

Lily let out a snarl. “So you can keep an eye on me?”

“Yes,” Q agreed unapologetically. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

“I’m going to decimate all of your electronics. You know I can do it. Don’t force me into something you’ll regret.”

Q fell rather still. She could do it. Lily was an accomplished hacker, and had spent years ducking and diving around the MI6 systems while learning from Q. “Lily…”

“I’m going to apply. Gawain picked me. I’m going to go through the selection process, and I am going to join the Kingsmen, and  _that is final_. Tell everybody that if they get involved, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“I will talk to your father. You will have to speak to Mycroft and Sherlock yourself. I doubt Sherlock will ever relent.”

Lily was quiet for a moment. “I’ll find a way. Please daddy, try to convince them that this is just… this is what I want to do. And I am an adult, and I love you. I will be safe. You two have taught me so much…”

Q sighed. “That was because we didn’t want you to be compromised if you get involved in anything concerning me and your father,” he explained. “There was and is a substantial risk involved in being the child of the MI6 Quartermaster and one of the most renowned double-oh agents since the programme began. It was designed to extend your life, not to be used in a forum that  _reduces_  your life expectancy.”

“Daddy, I know. But I can’t live my life like that. You know I’ve always wanted to be an agent.”

Q smiled very slightly, very sadly. “I just kept hoping you’d grow out of it,” he admitted. “Okay. Just please be safe. I won’t get involved, but I will probably keep an eye on you.”

“I expected as much,” Lily replied, with a smile creeping into her voice. “Thank you. I love you, daddy.”

“Love you too, Lil. Now go be useful somewhere, I’ll be home around nine-ish.”

“I’ll cook.”

“Thank you,” Q replied lightly. “I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye,” she smiled, and hung up, leaving Q to his ever-running worries about Lily’s safety in joining something like the Kingsmen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I'd love to hear your thoughts! Jen.


End file.
